


American Omens

by Wacky_Waving_Inflatable



Category: American Gods - Neil Gaiman, Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Death, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Language, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Plot Twists, Rock and Roll, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-07-08 10:01:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19867756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wacky_Waving_Inflatable/pseuds/Wacky_Waving_Inflatable
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale pull off a miracle to move to Seattle, and meet some very unlikely characters.





	1. Kindred Spirits and a Visit From a Spider

American Omens  
Prologue

Somewhere in America

After 6 millennia in Europe, and half of those in Britain, Aziraphale and Crowley decided they needed a change. London just had too many traumatic memories attached to it, although Heaven and Hell were both still too terrified and perplexed by the Demon and the Angel to bother with.

Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale could tell you exactly when they finally accepted their feelings for each other and fell into this domestic lifestyle, but after 6000 years putting their jobs first and meeting in secret, a kiss and a cuddle were a welcome reprieve.

The powers that be had mostly left America to its own devices. It's melting pot of people and religions made it hard to navigate. But where? New York was out of the question. It was far too crowded, far too smelly, and far too much like Hell for Crowley, and California was way too hot, but somewhere more rural wouldn't do either. Aziraphale was used to a certain lifestyle, and cornfields were not part of it. 

They decided on Seattle. Metropolitan, but cleaner and friendlier than most. The climate was similar to London and Seattle's strong LGBTQ community insured that two male-presenting individuals wouldn't face as much scrutiny for their relationship. 

And they did amazing things with seafood. 

So Crowley sold his flat and moved his plants into the flat above the book shop, and on a spring day nearly a year after the Not-pocalypse, the demon and the angel pulled off a joint-miracle and moved the entire bookshop to Seattle.

It was raining.

Part 1  
Kindred Spirits   
and a Visit From a Spider

It was early September and an adorable new cafe had just opened around the corner from the book shop. On a slow afternoon, Aziraphale closed the shop early, picked out a book he'd been meaning to reread, and trundled over to take a look. It had the art nouveau aesthetic Aziraphale loved in the early 20th century and large windows that filled the cafe with natural lighting. The smells coming out were divine, and the atmosphere seemed friendly enough. He went inside and was greeted by the voice of a young woman. 

"Hi there!" She called from the kitchen "Sit anywhere you like, I'll be right with you!"

Aziraphale sat at a table by front windows and after a moment the woman brought him a menu. She was a plump, jolly looking woman with long, dark hair pulled into a messy ponytail and large glasses. She was late twenties, maybe early thirties, but was dressed much older, in a high collar blouse and skirt. Her name tag read Pauline. 

"Whoa you're, like, super dapper!" Pauline exclaimed when she saw Aziraphale "Do you dress like that all the time?"

"Uh, well yes. I suppose I do," he replied, a bit taken aback. "What are the specials today?"

She told him about the specials, which were mostly pasta with seafood. As an aside, she added "We also have peach cobbler cheesecake, courtesy of moi."

"That sounds lovely," Aziraphale declined a menu and ordered a pasta primavera band sparkling water.

"Oh for sure, I'll have that out right away!" 

With that Aziraphale set to work reading his book. Pauline came back a few minutes later with his water. As she set the glass down she glanced at the book and gasped, startling Aziraphale out of his reading trance.

"My dear, are you quite alright"?

"Yeah," she began, "It's just, oh man, is that Poe's Tamerlane?"

Aziraphale beamed "Yes it is! Are you a literature lover?"

"You could say that," she pulled out a chair next to him "May I?" 

"Oh, by all means!"

Pauline sat down. "I'm studying the history of American mythology for my dissertation. That book in your hands is INCREDIBLY rare!"

Aziraphale offered the book to her, "Would you like to take a look? It's always nice to talk to someone who appreciates antique books." 

"Oh, glob, I couldn't! My hands are dirty and -" 

"I assure you, it's fine. Here, take a look!" 

Pauline gingerly took the book in her hands and opening it to the title page with the most delicate of fingertips "There were only 50 of these printed," she whispered "I thought they were all lost. And here you are, just walking around with it. Holy crap, this is in beautiful condition. Where did you get this?"

"Oh, I bought it at an auction a some time back," Aziraphale smiled brightly. The truth was that he bought it brand new when it was printed. "I own the bookshop around the corner and deal mostly in antiques like this one." 

Pauline looked up at him, wide eyed "Do you really? Oh man, I'd love to come poke around sometime." 

"Absolutely! It would be a pleasure to show you some of my collection!"

Just then the cook rang the bell to tell Pauline the angels order was ready, "We'll have to continue this later." She said, handing back the book as if it were a baby. "I have to get back to work. Thank you so much for letting me see it."

"Of course," Aziraphale replied "You're welcome at the shop any time!"

Pauline smiled sweetly and bustled away to get his food and help the few other patrons that had come in. Aziraphale ate quietly, gazing out the window onto the sunny street outside. The primavera was very good, and the shrimp tasted like it had come straight out of the ocean that morning. 

When he was done, Pauline came back with his bill and a small cardboard carryout box "Cheesecake," she winked "It's on the house."

"Well thank you, my dear! That's so sweet of you!"

Aziraphale paid in cash, leaving a sizable tip for the girl, and waved goodbye as he left the cafe back to the shop. Once home, he set the box on the counter and nestled onto a sofa with his book. 

Crowley came downstairs just then, stretching, "Morning, Angel!" He yawned.

"It's 3 in the afternoon, Crowley. Far past morning, even by your standards." 

"Oh come off it," Crowley smiled "What's this?" Gesturing to the takeout box.

"That is peach cobbler cheesecake, I believe. I got it from that new place around the corner." Aziraphale informed him "There's a waitress there studying mythology and she gave it to me for letting her look at my book. Expect her by sometime to look around."

"How are you so good at making friends," the demon laughed, settling down with the angel and putting his head on his shoulder. 

Aziraphale kissed the top of his head, "I'm just your friendly neighborhood angel."

"Read to me, Angel?" 

"I'd love to."

………………………….......................................................

If you go down into the lower levels of Pike Place Market, sometimes you can spot an absolutely ancient Native American woman in archaic dress. Her dark, lined face androgynous with age and her back bent with the weight of years, she will smile at you, but before you know it she'll disapear into a crowd of noisy tourists, or shuffle off around a corner and be gone. In a city like Seattle, where eccentric people are as common as house flies, you may not realize at first that you've seen a ghost.

Most people experience the same thing when they meet a god. You won't immediately realize this person is more than they seem. Perhaps wiser than you'd expect, a little more jovial, or maybe just unpleasant altogether for reasons you can't explain. It'll be later when you're alone, thinking about the day, you'll try to put a word to this feeling, but just when you think you have it, it'll disappear like the woman in the market. 

Gods and ghosts are cut from the same cloth, you see. 

The woman in Pike Place Market is Princess Angeline, or at least that's the name the white settlers gave her, as the eldest daughter of the Duwamish Chief, Seathle. Her birth name was Kikisoblu. 

Angeline lived in a small cabin near the end of what today is Pike Street. When the 1855 Treaty of Elliot Point required her and the remainder of her tribe to move to a reservation, Angeline stood her ground. She wasn't going anywhere, and she never did. She lived in her cabin, coming out to wander the streets and sell hand woven items, until her death in 1896. The city footed the bill for her funeral, burying her in Lake View Cemetery on Capitol Hill.

The difference between gods and ghosts though, is that gods can't force people to believe in them (it's called "faith" for a reason) but ghosts, on the other hand, will rattle a chain now and again or hitch a ride in the middle of the night, just for the attention. Seattle is a fairly young city, it's first white immigrants taking root in 1851, but it has its fair share of ghosts though few of them echo memories of the past as much as Princess Angeline. 

Pioneer Square is a 15-or-so block swath of downtown that, today, encompasses the majority of Seattle's tourism. This was the site of the original settlement, and it was just as rough as any western town. Think of a spaghetti western, but with more rain. Saloons, brothels, corrupt sheriffs, murderers, and lumberjacks. Early Seattle had it all!

After a bank robbery went wrong, an angry mob of miners and loggers stormed the jail to hang the culprit. Unfortunately, as angry mobs are want to do, things got out of hand. The men didn't stop with the robbers and continued hanging jailed suspects, including an innocent man by the name of George Payne. 

Not much is known about Mister Payne or why he was being jailed, but the tree he was hanged from still stands at the center of Pioneer Square Park. On dark rainy nights, the silhouette of a hanged man can be seen in the tree and his voice will come to you from 150 years ago, You killed an innocent man.

………………………………..................................................

It was several hours later that Crowley stood up, stretching "I'm going out for a drink, I think. Care to join me?" 

Aziraphale thought a moment, "No, I'll stay here."

"Suit yourself," Crowley said, heading to get dressed.

Before stepping out of the store he pulled his sunglasses down so Aziraphale could see his eyes "Don't wait up," he winked.

He walked up the road to a pub he liked. It was styled like an irish pub, had cheap drinks, and decent music. One thing he liked about the states was that people were so much friendlier. People rarely bothered him, even in the middle of the night, and he could carry a knife without worrying about police. Of course, he didn't NEED the knife, but it made him look more human. 

The pub was more crowded than usual, which was marginally disappointing but, as a sign on the door informed him, there would be live music tonight from a band named Allie Kat and the Strays at 9:30. There was still 10 minutes, so Crowley ordered a double bourbon on the rocks and settled in. 

He heard a woman's voice nearby telling someone off.

"I said, fuck OFF, Rodney. Or I'll have Roger throw you out!"

"Fine!" Crowley turned to see a man leaving the table behind him "Dumb bitch," the man mumbled as he stalked away. 

Crowley made eye contact to check on the woman. She smiled and nodded at him. She was young, and pretty by classical standards. Her hair was styled into an undercut that was so popular at the moment, and a large bullring hung from her septum. Her tank top showed off a number of tattoos covering her arms, chest, and back. Her eyes were green, and her cat eye contacts gave her away as a member of the band about to play. He nodded back and went back to his drink. 

When the time came, the woman made her way to a makeshift stage where her band mates had just finished tuning and setting up. She checked her microphone and double checked the set list. Then she introduced the band

"Hey everybody!!! How are we doing tonight?"

The pub cheered.

"I SAID, HOW ARE WE DOING TONIGHT?!"

The pub cheered louder.

"NOW THATS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!" she chattered into the mic "I'm Allie Kat and these are my Strays, and we're gonna start with some RAMONES!" 

The pub patrons cheered again. 

The drummer counted them down and they started a very heavy hitting cover of Blitzkrieg Bop and Allie Kat sang. 

Crowley let his mind wander as the band worked through their set list and took a couple of requests. They weren't bad for a cover band and the singer was, Crowley had to admit, pretty good. 

After an hour or so, the woman got back on the mic and addressed the bar again "Alright, friends and enemies, this is gonna be our last song for the night. My ladies here are gonna play us out with some Zeppelin!" 

More cheering.

The guitar started the opening bars of the Immigrant Song and Crowley could feel goosebumps rising on his arms. 

/We come from the land of the ice and snow  
From the midnight sun, where the hot springs flow  
The hammer of the gods  
We'll drive our ships to new lands  
To fight the horde, and sing and cry  
Valhalla, I am coming!/

This cover was perfect. The band had clearly practiced this song very hard. The woman hit every note, every word with all the power she could muster. Crowley could tell this must be her favorite song. He was so mesmerized it was a moment before he realized he was tapping his foot and bobbing his head slong. Crowley stopped looked up at the singer, who was smiling down at him and put up her hand in a horns gesture as she sang. 

The song ended and the bar gave a huge round of applause. Once it died down the woman crooned into the mic "Thank you all for coming out tonight, it's really been a pleasure! Don't forget to tip your bartender! Good night!"

The bar applauded again as the band started packing up. Crowley ordered another drink, impressed by the performance in spite of himself. 

Once finished the singer came up to the bar. She gestured at the stool next to him, asking if it was taken. "It's all yours," he told her. "that was a damned good set"

She sat down and ordered a beer "Thank you! It's just a hobby. We're not trying to make it big or anything. It's awfully fun though "

"That Zeppelin was nearly as good as when I saw the original, live."

She turned to him, shocked "Live?! You can't possibly be that old!"

"I'm a lot older than I look."

"Clean living, I suppose," she teased, gesturing to his glass, then looking up into his face "Sunglasses at night, huh?

"I've got an eye condition," he explained. 

"Oh, sorry," she said hurriedly, "So what brings you to-" she started but got distracted by something by the door. She downed the rest of her beer in one gulp "Hold that thought," she said and raced outside. Feeling a sense of urgency, but also confusion, Crowley gulped his drink and followed her. Outside he looked around for a sign if her and heard voices around the back of the building. 

"RODNEY!" Allie Kat shouted "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" 

Crowley rounded the corner to see the man from earlier half carrying a woman who was clearly very drunk. Crowley didn't have to be a genius to figure out what was going to happen once Rodney got away with her.

"None of your damn business!"

"Give her to me. She's too drunk, Rodney."

"Yeah that's the point," Rodney replied, laughing. 

"I SAID PUT HER DOWN, YOU STUPID SON OF A BITCH."

"Or what?" Rodney scoffed "What are you gonna do if I don't?" 

Crowley watched Allie Kat reach into her pockets and bring them out with two sets of brass knuckles "I'm gonna kick your ass, that's what I'm gonna do." 

Rodney laughed again "You know what, fine. Take her. I'll find someone else." Dropping the girl on the ground, Crowley heard her yelp. "This is more trouble than it's worth."

Allie Kat walked up to the drunk girl, lifting her carefully off the ground as Rodney retreated. "C'mon, sweetie. I'll get you a cab."

She turned to head back into the bar with the girl, not noticing Crowley in the shadows. Just then, running footsteps could be heard behind her. Before she or Crowley could react, Rodney was on her, plunging a knife into her side. The drunk girl, sobered by fear, screamed and took off running. 

Allie Kat staggered forward but regained her balance, turning and swinging her right hand to connect with Rodney's chin. He was thrown back by the brass-knuckled upper cut. Allie Kat hit him again, kicking him square in the crotch with her steel-toed boots. He doubled over in pain. A knee to the face and another kick to the stomach and Rodney was down. 

Allie Kat caught her breath a moment then walked up to the groaning man, and crouched down putting her knee in the middle of his back. 

"Here's the thing, Rodney," she panted "You're a stupid, scum of the earth shit stain, but I'm gonna give you another chance to walk away from here. I'm gonna get up, and you're going to leave, and if I ever see you in my fucking bar again, I'll beat your ass again. GOT IT?!"

"Yes," the man weezed under her weight. 

She got up, "Alright. Now fuck off."

Rodney pulled himself off the ground and ran up the street. Allie Kat turned and, with a start, spotted Crowley coming toward her. But far from being sympathetic, he was angry.

"That was the stupidest bloody thing I've ever seen," he chastised, as Allie Kat sat down on a curb and lit a cigarette "Why would you try to confront that jackass on your own. You're mortal, you know that?!"

"So are you, guy" she inhaled the smoke deeply. "What was I suppose to do? Ask you, a person I've said maybe 10 words to, to help me? I don't know you." She moaned and grabbed her side "I think he stabbed me."

Crowley softened a bit then, "Let me take a look."

The young woman pulled up the back of her shirt, wincing. There was, of course, a very bloody stab wound but it was nothing a little miracle couldn't handle. With the wound and blood gone, Crowley told her "Nope, not even a scratch. You'll likely have a bloody big bruise tomorrow though." 

She sighed in relief "Yeah, I can feel it already."

"You shouldn't've let him go like that. You should have at least called the police."

"Oh for what? So I can be stuck here all night with a bunch of pigs? That poor girl still not getting home, and the bartender getting in trouble for over serving? I took care of it quicker and easier." She looked at her hands, "Plus, these brass knuckles are technically illegal."

Crowley crossed his arms "Then you should have gotten help."

Allie Kat stood up. "From who? I told you, I don't know you. We have douchebags like that everywhere, the KKK roaming the streets in police uniforms, and the gummed up wheels of bureaucracy obstructing justice." She took another long drag of her cigarette "You're not in jolly old England anymore, pal. This is the god damned wild west and the strong have to protect the weak."

She snubbed her cigarette out and extended a hand to help the demon off the curb. Even through her cat contacts he could see the righteous anger in her eyes. He took her hand and pulled himself up.

"Crowley," he said simply

"What's that?"

"It's what my friends call me. Crowley."

"Well it's good to meet you, Crowley," she smiled "Call me Allie. Now, I think we need drinks."

And drink they did, into the night, til last call and they both went home.

Aziraphale was still awake, on the account that he didn't need sleep, but more than that he was worried. He had started getting a strong sense of foreboding. This was the first time Crowley had been out so late since before they moved. He was just starting to worry heaven or hell had tracked them down again when he heard the shop door jingle and Crowley strunkenly daggered in. 

Humming The Immigrant Song, Crowley swept the angel up in a hug, kissing his face affectionately "Oh Aziraphale, my angel," he slurred "I met a ssssuper hero."

Aziraphale chuckled and wriggled away "A super hero?"

"Like a tattooed, lady Captain America," he chuckled, plopping into a chair and draping himself over the arms "and she's got America's assss." 

"Oh, Crowley," cooed the angel "how much have you had to drink?"

"Probably enough, I expect," he chuckled "But this woman, I tell you it was amazing. Fucking took down this guy like POW! BAM! Even after he bloody stabbed her."

"She got stabbed? Did you help her?"

"No need. She clocked him good and he ran off. I just miracled the wound away." Crowley sighed "And, oh Angel, she sang like….like. Well like anything."

The angel smiled at his demon "My dear, I think you ought to get to bed. You can tell me all about it in the morning." 

"Sssalright," he hissed. And kissing Aziraphale goodnight, he trudged upstairs "night night."

Aziraphale chuckled again. Crowley really was so cute when he was drunk.

The next day was another bright one, and all the bustling by the shop reminded Aziraphale of London. Despite this, he still felt uneasy. He was anxious, and kept getting up to look out the windows. Around noon he decided to give himself and his worries to rest and have tea. In the kitchen, he shuffled around getting cups and biscuits while he waited for the kettle to boil. He was just wondering why he was getting out three cups when he heard the shop door jingle open and a crackle of energy go through the air.

"H-hello?" he called.

Crowley felt it too, waking up from a dead sleep and bolting out of bed in nothing but his underclothes and socks. "Aziraphale!" he called as he took the stairs two at a time til he reached the entryway and slid to a halt between the angel and the visitor.

"Well I'll be a monkey's uncle," smiled the man. He sounded foreign, even to Crowley and Aziraphale. He was a very dark African man, dressed in a checkered suit and yellow gloves. It was impossible to gauge his age, he could have been 40 or 400, but his smile reached up to his glinting mahogany eyes. "An angel AND a demon, living together. I never would have thought it possible."

"Who are you?" Crowley growled.

The man laughed. It was a hearty, friendly laugh. "You may call me Mister Nancy, and I think we all need to have a chat. Is that tea ready?"

Crowley and Aziraphale looked at each other. Aziraphale nodded, and they lead Mister Nancy into the kitchen. Crowley took care to stay between them. They all watched each other silently while Aziraphale finished making the tea and setting the biscuits on the table. Mister Nancy was examining a stack of books when Crowley finally spoke up "So who are you? Why are you here?"

"I told you, I'm Mister Nancy," laughed Mister Nancy.

"You bloody well know what I mean."

Mister Nancy picked up a biscuit, "I'll make it really simple for you, serpent," popping the cookie into his mouth and chewing happily. "I'm a god. Not GOD God, mind you, but A God. The spider god. I'm not as powerful as even the two of you, not anymore, but I was once. Not too many people paying tribute to poor old Mister Nancy anymore."

"About six months ago I felt a big ass release of energy when you two chuckle heads moved this shop across an ocean and an entire damn continent. That sort of thing doesn't go unnoticed. So I've had my feelers out looking for the source ever since and I got a tip last night. One of you," he pointed at the demon and the angel "performed a miracle last night."

Crowley stared at him "How do you know that?" 

"I have my webs everywhere," he answered.

"What, like spies?"

"No, you idiot, literal webs! I'm The Spider god! Get with it!"

Crowley slumped "Oh. Right."

"So a miracle was done," Aziraphale cut in. "Why is that such a big deal?"

Mister Nancy set down his cup and looked into Aziraphale's shocking blue eyes "Because if a weak god like me can feel it, a much stronger one can too, and there is someone on the loose bumping off powerful sons of bitches like you, and nobody knows who or why. This isn't a terf war like before, this seems personal." 

Aziraphale gasped "Surely you're not serious!"

"I assure you I am. I know you two can't be killed by mortal means, but seeing as you're- I presume- fugitives, I doubt your people would be real keen to give you back some bodies if yours were destroyed. And it's really not too hard to get ahold of some holy water."

Crowley held Aziraphale's hand under the table. "So what can we do?" asked Aziraphale.

"Well for one, stop healing people if it's not a mortal injury," he said, smacking Crowley on the back of his head "and for two, don't trust anyone."

Crowley rubbed the back if you head "What about you?"

"ESPECIALLY not me! Have you been listening at all?! Good Lord, this one is dense!" he laughed heartily again. 

They finished their tea and walked Mister Nancy to the door. "How can we get in contact with you, if we need you?" Aziraphale asked.

"The easy answer is don't," Mister Nancy replied, "but if something big comes up, just talk to a spider. Say you need me. There are many, many gods in America. Very few of them have any real power but most of them won't be as courteous as myself. Just keep your head down and your eyes peeled and you'll be alright."

With that Mister Nancy was gone, and the angel and his demon had much to discuss.


	2. All Hallows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has a nightmare of the past and goes to a very unexpected party.
> 
> Something diabolical is afoot.

American Omens  
Part 2

All Hallows

Autumn was in full swing and in the Pacific Northwest that meant wet and cold. Aziraphale kind of liked the cold because it gave him a chance to wear comfy sweaters and drink hot cider. Crowley on the other hand, who tended to be on the cold blooded side because of his reptilian background, did not enjoy the cold as much. Aziraphale acted as his space heater most days, as they cuddled up to read together and stole kisses from each other.

Aziraphale and Pauline had seen each other at the cafe a couple of times a week since their first meeting and discussed books and mythology, but she hadn't yet visited the shop til today. It was the day before Halloween and Aziraphale was working on his meticulous bookkeeping when the door jingled open. He set his reading glasses aside and went to see who it was, finding Pauline gazing around in amazement at the beautifully disheveled bookshop. "Oh my, what a lovely surprise!" Aziraphale clapped with delight.

"Zira! This place is incredible," Pauline exclaimed "How long did you say you'd been here? It looks ancient!"

Aziraphale shifted uncontrollably "Well, we've been in this spot for only seven months or so, but I've been an antique book dealer for a very long time." 

Pauline was only half listening ad she carefully sifted through a stack of books "You keep saying we and I've been meaning to ask who you lives with here."

"Oh, you know," Aziraphale blushed "my...erm... associate?" He still wasn't sure how to refer to Crowley and never seemed to come up with the right word. 

Pauline gave him a smile out of the corner of her eye "Uh huh. Keep your secrets then."

"So," Aziraphale changed the subject "how about tea!"

Pauline half waved at him over a pile "Yeah, sure."

A few minutes later he brought her a cup of tea on a plate with a few biscuits perched on the edge. She was heavily focused on a book and took the small plate from him without looking up. Aziraphale sat down in a chair nearby and watched her. He loved watching people engage in their passions. You could really get to know someone by seeing them in their happy place. They sat like that, sipping tea and nibbling biscuits and talking very little til Pauline gasped "Oh! I remember why I came by! I'm sorry, all these books distracted me."

"I've been looking for a particular book and can't find it anywhere. It's not super rare, but it's been out of print for a long time."

Aziraphale beamed "of course, my dear! What is it?" 

She rifled through her satchel and pulled out a notebook with innumerable paperclips and post-it notes poking out. "I'm stuck on this particular part of my project and I think this book has the info I need," She opened to a bookmarked page and handed it to him. 

"Thorgerdr Holgabrudr? Oh my, I haven't seen this one in a very long time, but I'll take a look around."

Pauline retrieved the notebook, letting her hand linger on his. "That would be amazing. I'd seriously owe you."

Aziraphale smiled "I'll do my best. Are you leaving already?"

"Yes, I have to cover a shift at the cafe this evening, and I still have some things before that."

"Well thank you so much for coming by! We must take tea again sometime." 

Pauline gave him a kiss on the cheek, "Absolutely, Zira. It was great seeing you." And with that the was gone, sending the door jingling behind her, and leaving Aziraphale baffled by her show of affection.

Aziraphale searched through the rest of the afternoon and into the next day for the book, finding neither hide nor hair of it. Admittedly, he had a lot of books, but he had a loose organization system and should have been able to find it. When he eventually gave up for the day it was already getting dark. Children and adults in costume were parading past the shop. Halloween was a much bigger occasion in America than England. Aziraphale found it adorable. Crowley thought it was all a bit unnecessary but liked seeing Aziraphale happy, so he let the angel be. 

Aziraphale sat down on the sofa where Crowley was perusing a copy of The Stranger "Was the matter, Angel? Your lack of organization skills finally biting you in the ass?" the demon chuckled. 

"I can organise fine, thank you," the angel huffed indignantly. "I'm just having a little trouble. I'll find it eventually." 

Crowley kissed him on the forehead "Sure thing, angel," he said loftily "I'm gonna go have a sleep." 

"Oh, but don't you want to look at all the costumes?" 

"Eh, I'll pass this time," Crowley waved him off as my ascended the stairs.

He heard screaming first, then he smelledl the smoke. 

Crowley scrambled up off his sleeping pad, coughing, and ran outside. The village was on fire and he was surrounded by a cacophony of noise. Some were running, some trying to put out the flames, while still more were fighting off the invaders. No, not invaders. Those were HIS people. He had guided the Romans to this fjord to establish a trading outpost. What the HELL was going on?! This was NOT going as planned.

In the chaos Crowley could hear a small cry. Oh, hell, a child! He ran in the direction of the cry and soon spotted a small girl. He scooped her up and ran toward the edge of town. If he could just save this one kid…

A swoosh came from behind him, and the heavy THUNK of an arrow caught him in the back. Crowley fell to his knees in pain, dropping the child. He could tell the arrow had pierced his lung as he gasped for air. A woman came up behind him and picked the child back up, soothing her softly. His eyes streamed from the smoke blowing up from the village and he couldn't make out her features.

"You won't be taking this child, Loki," she snarled, hiding the girl's face from the grizzley sight of the dying man.

Through the pain Crowley gasped "I'm- I'm not lok….." and everything went dark and he was falling again. Falling, falling, falling down into an all encompassing black. Back to hell. 

He heard his name. 

"Crowley," the voice came gently "Crowley, wake up," Aziraphale was jostling him "CROWLEY!"

Crowley woke with a start, gasping for air and grabbing onto the angel for dear life. Aziraphale was surprised, but wrapped his arms around the shaking demon "What on Earth happened? You were shouting in your sleep!"

Crowley breathed his angel in, grounding himself in the present before speaking. "I dreamed of my first discorporation," he whispered, trembling "When you're a demon, discorporation is like falling. Then they punish you with all the rest of the schmucks in hell til they decide to give you a body back.

"This particular time I didn't have to wait long but it was….. long enough."

"Oh, my darling," Aziraphale whispered "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be, Angel. Thank you for waking me up." Crowley sighed "I think I might go for a walk."

"But it's cold outside!" Aziraphale protested.

Crowley kissed him softly "I know, Angel. But I think that's what I need right now." 

"Well, if you insist," Aziraphale shrugged. "But wear a sweater."

Crowley smiled "Of course."

Crowley dressed, including a thick sweater Aziraphale provided, and put on his glasses. He planted another kiss on the angel and headed out into the night. The angel was right. It was cold, but at least it wasn't raining at the moment. Crowley picked a direction and started walking. He thought of the village.

His first time there had been part of a scouting mission with some Roman explorers. Aziraphale and he had...gone separate ways for one reason or another and he wanted to be as far from that angel as he could get. After his discorporation and subsequent return to earth, he went back. There was nothing left. The whole village had been razed to the ground and its people slaughtered. He discovered later one of the Roman legionnaires pissed off a villager by getting a little too handsy with his sister. It started a fight that escalated to a total massacre. And it was all Crowley's fault. If he'd never--

Just then a car pulled up next to Crowley, catching him off guard. The driver rolled the window down. "Hey, skinny bones!" Called Allie "Get in, loser, we're going to a party."

Crowley thought for a moment. He didn't particularly feel like a party, but a drink would be nice. "Yeah, alright," he mumbled, climbing into the car.

"Buckle up, we're late!" Allie said, pulling back into the road without waiting. She turned the radio up loud and hit the gas. Crowley didn't know where they were going, and didn't care at the moment. He leaned his head against the window and let the bass drown out the painful memories.

………………………………

June 6, 1889; Seattle is burning.

A glue pot tipped over by one John Back started the fire in a carpentry shop in Pioneer Square. The fire quickly spread through the turpentine on the floor, and Back made the situation worse by throwing water on it in an attempt to control the fire. Fed by the shop’s timber and an unusually dry summer, the blaze erupted and shortly devoured the entire block. A nearby liquor store exploded, and the alcohol fueled the flames. Wooden boardwalks carried the flames across streets to set other blocks ablaze.

The fire burned through the day and into the night, and by the morning of June 7 it had destroyed 25 city blocks. Only 1 person was killed in the fire, though the destruction cost the fledgling city approximately $558 million in today's dollars. 

Native American tribes in the Pacific Northwest have their own story of destruction, about a thousand years before whites invaded.

It’s said that a great shapeshifter, the a'yahos, lives under Seattle. While taking the form of a giant serpent, he causes earthquakes and landslides as he slithers underground. 

Long ago, the Double Headed Eagle flew over the area we know as Agate Pass. This angered the great serpent and the two began to fight. The earth shook and the water boiled, and the people screamed until it was loud as thunder. The 7.3 magnitude earthquake completely reshaped Puget Sound to what we know today, sending massive landslides tumbling into Lake Washington, and created a tsunami that left sand deposits on Whidbey Island.

When it seemed like the earth would shake to pieces and be swallowed by the water, the Double Headed Eagle exploded into the sky, and flew away back to the White Mountain.

Seattle rose again from the ashes of destruction of the Great Seattle Fire. Reconstruction efforts caused the population to double within a year. Instead of moving the city, the inhabitants simply rebuilt in the same spot, only 20 feet above sea level, creating a series of underground tunnels you can still tour today. 

And the a'yahos still slumbers under Puget Sound, waiting for another fight.

……………………………...

Allie, apparently a woman after his own heart, drove like a bat out of hell. She weaved through traffic with the greatest of ease and drummed the steering wheel to the music. She really was something else. They headed north east out of Seattle. Crowley had never been overly fond of wilderness, so it was a huge relief when humans started building civilizations. Even now, as they drove out into the Cascade foothills, all the trees were making him anxious. Hell, all the trees in the city made him anxious. Why would a metropolitan area need so many damn trees?

After driving for a good hour, they pulled off onto a dirt road. From there it was yet another half hour before they turned onto a long driveway lined on either side with cars. Allie parked the car. She turned the radio back down to a reasonable level before turning the car off. She didn't want to startle herself when she turned it back on.

"I guess we're hoofin it from here," she told him.

"It's not far is it?"

"No, I don't think so. Why? You scaaaaared?" Allie teased.

Crowley cracked a smile "I'm the scariest bloody thing in these woods," he joked, more to ease his anxiety than anything.

Allie grabbed a bag out of the back seat and they took off on foot. She was right, it wasn't far, but the uneven ground made walking difficult for him. As they got closer to their destination Crowley started hearing drums and he could see a light peaking through the trees. They came out into a large clearing where a few dozen people stood around a roaring bonfire. A few people danced in a drum circle, many were in costumes. Most of them were just drinking and chatting. Dotted around the edge, crystals on strings and other small items of power hung from low branches. Crowley observed an altar set up at the northernmost area of the clearing. Witches!

"What is this?"

Allie laughed "It's Samhain, man! Pagan new year!"

"I don't think I should be here."

"Oh c'mon. Just have a drink. If you're still bummed out after that I'll take you home."

He sighed, "Fine. I really could use a drink."

"That's what I'm talking about!" She slapped him on the back "Oh! There's my buddy Dana. C'mon, he has homemade hard cider" and she grabbed him by the hand and dragged him to a table where several people stood chatting.

"Hey guys!" Allie greeted them exuberantly, throwing up finger guns.

"Allie Kat!" They called back "Who'd you bring?"

"This is-"

"Anthony," Crowley introduced himself. 

"Anthony," repeated Allie. "I also brought some blackberry wine," she said, unzipping her bag and pulling out two bottles. "I think we could use some of Dana's cider though," she winked.

Two cups were filled with the fragrant golden cider while Crowley gazed around the clearing. Allie brought it to him and Crowley took a sip. It was very good. He followed Allie around as she mingled, though he didn't feel much like socializing himself. When his drink was gone he went and got another. He broke from Allie and walking around the edge of the clearing, examining the crystals and figurines that hung around him.

Suddenly a woman appeared leaning on a tree on the other side of the bonfire. She wore a very long green dress and her auburn hair nearly touched the ground. Her hazel eyes fixed him with an intense glare, youthful face etched with a look of disgust. Crowley felt a wave of energy coming off her but he walked towards her cautiously anyway. She straightened up and threw her hair out of her face as he approached.

"You've got a lot of nerve coming here, demon," she chided testily.

Crowley was taken off guard "Wha- who are you?"

"I am Hecate," she told him, as if he were an absolute idiot, "this celebration is a tribute to me."

Great. Another god, Crowley thought. "Well how was I supposed to know that?!"

Hecate put her hands on her hips, "You Christian deities are so self-centered. It's Halloween? Samhain?! ALL parties pay a little tribute to me, but this," she gestured around "is specifically for me. What is a demon even doing here?"

Crowley sighed. He'd been out of his depth all evening. Hell! since they moved the shop to this God forsaken country, and now he was being chewed out by another god. "I honestly don't know," he admitted, sitting down on a log and putting his head in his hands "I'm a bit lost right now."

Hecate obviously didn't expect this. She came and sat down beside him, a little more delicately now "I don't understand."

He gritted his teeth. "I was sent up here in the very beginning. The beginning of the beginning."

Hecate gasped "So you're-?"

"I am," he slid his glasses down the tiniest bit to show her his snake eyes, "Or I was. Something happened that Hell or Heaven never planned for."

"And that was?"

"I." He swallowed "I fell in love with an angel. And he with me. And what did we do? We bickered for 6000 years, then misplaced the bloody Antichrist! After stopping the bloody apocalypse and getting our bosses off our backs, we moved here. To the states. And I love it! I really do! Waking up every day in his silly little book shop, seeing his happy little cherub face, kissing him goodnight. It's everything I dreamed since the beginning of time." Crowley sighed again "But…."

Hecate put a hand on his arm "But?"

"But what am I now? A fallen angel or a risen demon? My angel had a purpose outside of his heavenly duties, and that was the shop. My only purpose was him. Keeping him safe from Hell, keeping him from Falling, keeping him from getting discorporated by Nazis and whoever else. He was always my first priority. What do I do now that I don't have to hide anymore and I don't really have to do hell's bidding? I'm adrift in a sea of possibilities I never imagined, and I get to do it with him, and that terrifies me."

He looked up at Hecate. She had tears in her eyes as she spoke, "You're 6000 years old and you're just learning how to live."

"I guess you could say that."

"This is what humans go through," she told him "on an almost constant basis. It's why there are gods and angels and demons and spirits in the first place. They need somewhere to look for reassurance and answers."

Crowley bristled at this "And who am I supposed to turn to, huh? My god threw me away for asking too many questions. I- I only-"

Hecate took Crowley hands in hers, "Now you turn to your angel! There's no reason why he can't still be your purpose, and your answer." She kissed him on the forehead, "Why aren't you with him now?"

Crowley sniffed, "I went for a walk and got picked up by one of your acolytes." He gestured to Allie across the clearing. 

Hecate's eyes narrowed as she watched her, "Well, she's not one of mine, but it was good of her to bring you. I'm going to give you one last piece of advice."

"And what would that be?"

"Stop moping and go have a good time. This is a Samhain party, not a pity party!" And with that she was gone, but Crowley could still feel her energy all around him. 

Allie called to him "Hey! What are you doing all alone?! Come dance with me, skinny bones!"

He smiled, and he downed his cider.

Crowley didn't remember how he got home when he woke up in bed the next morning, still fully dressed. There were pine needles in his socks and he smelled of wood smoke. Aziraphale and he had put a moratorium on frivolous miracles to deter suspicion, so he actually had to take a shower. Afterward he went downstairs. 

Aziraphale was sitting at the computer, working with his bookkeeping again. 

"Morning, angel!" Crowley chirped

Aziraphale squinted at him out of the corner of his eye, "Mm hmm."

Crowley stopped, oh shit not the 'mm hmm', he thought, and went to make tea. While he put together cups and boiled the kettle he tried to remember what happened last night after his meeting with the goddess. It was all a blur of cider and mead, drum circles and dancing. Allie must have dropped him off? He really didn't know but it seemed the easiest answer. 

He carried the cups back into the other room and set one down next to Aziraphale. He had tipped a little Brandy into his own. The angel still didn't look at him. Crowley could tell he was in trouble. At times like this it was really just best to sit quietly and drink tea. When he was almost finished and angel finally spoke up.

"Do you think," he began, his voice shaking "that a cup of tea. Will make up for all you put me through last night?"

"Angel, I-" 

"Don't 'Angel' me right now," he scolded, getting up from his chair "You left last night at eight and said you were going for a walk. A walk! You were gone for 10 hours! No call or anything! I thought you were dead, Crowley! I thought you had been murdered and I'd never see you again! At six this morning you stumble in here stark raving drunk, covered in dirt and smelling like a fireplace. What the hell were you thinking, Crowley?!"

Crowley looked at his feet. Hot guilt was bubbling up in his chest, "I really fucked up, didn't I?"

"Yes, you really really fucked up!" 

The demon stood up and ran his fingers through his still-wet hair "Angel, look, I know a cup of tea and an apology aren't going to make up for putting you through so much, for all I put you through for 6000 years, but it's the best I can do right now."

Aziraphale had his arms crossed tightly in front of his chest. Crowley took the angels face in his hands so his yellow eyes could look into Aziraphale's blue, "I love you, Aziraphale. I always have and I always will, but I'm a stupid little dumb shit sometimes and I'm so sorry."

Aziraphale burst into huge angry tears then "Oh, Crowley, I love you too but you really are SO stupid! Just please, please don't scare me like that again."

Crowley pressed his forehead against Aziraphale's, "I'll make it up to you, Angel, I promise. No more scares."

"No more scares," Aziraphale repeated.

They both got themselves pulled together and had more drinks, but Crowley could tell he was still in the doghouse. Angels don't hold grudges, it's not in their nature, but this was a class-A fuckup and Crowley would have to find a way to make it up to him. He thought of the Goddess's words the night before "He's your purpose." Crowley gathered some courage. "Erm. Aziraphale. Can I ask you something?"

Aziraphale stopped, "Anything, my dear."

Crowley took a deep breath "I want you to show me how to do the bookkeeping. You do too much around here."

The angel smiled that smile he loved so much and replied "It's about time you started pulling your weight."

………………………………………..

So the demon and the angel live together? Very interesting, Allie thought after dropping Crowley at the bookshop. The Samhain party didn't go as she planned, but she was getting a much clearer image of what she was dealing with. Demons were apparently a lot stronger than the low grade gods she was used to. The drugs she put in his drink only made him super fun to party with and babble for hours about how much he loved his angel. 

Loose lips sink ships, Crowley.

Once back home Allie washed off her makeup and removed her contacts. Her glasses sat next to the sink, but she wouldn't need them until later when she went to work. She set out her work clothes and laid down to sleep for a few hours before going to the cafe. The angel should have found her book by now.


	3. Valhalla, I Am Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas time in the Pacific Northwest, but that does nothing to warm the hearts of some people. 
> 
> Revenge is realized.

American Omens  
Part 3

Valhalla, I Am Coming

Things at the shop had been quiet in the weeks after Halloween, aside from Crowley cursing the computer up and down as he tried to learn bookkeeping. American Thanksgiving came and went, leaving a path of Christmas rubble in its wake. 

Aziraphale didn't know how to feel about Christmas anymore. He had met Jesus alive, and on occasion after his death, but could never get a straight answer out of him about his feelings on Christmas. In the old days Aziraphale would go all out decorating the shop in red and gold, and constantly played holiday music, but that was really just for show in case anyone from upstairs popped in for an evaluation. These days, he felt very subdued about it. He put a wreath on the door and some fairy lights in the front windows and that was it. 

He was also planning on getting a gift for Crowley, but that was a secret only Pauline knew. She insisted on helping him find some vintage records, in return for letting her borrow so many of his books. She really was the sweetest. 

It was just a week before Christmas that she hit the jackpot. Pauline burst into the shop "Zira! I got them!" 

Aziraphale clapped, "Splendid! And I found a very reasonable record player the other day that'll do nicely."

"Nice! I took a listen to them myself before I came to make sure they weren't too worn. Perfect condition," she beamed at him.

The angel thought out loud "I wonder if I should get him some headphones."

"Well, that depends. How much do you like Queen and Led Zeppelin?"

Aziraphale thought for a moment and then wrinkled his nose, "Yes, I will get some headphones."

Pauline shuffled nervously "And I have something for you as well!"

"Oh you didn't have to do that!"

"It's the least I could do," she handed him an envelope "for being so helpful with my paper."

Aziraphale opened the envelope and peered inside "Tickets to a play for Christmas Eve. Oh, my dear, that's wonderful!"

"The community theater group is putting on Much Ado About Nothing. I know it's not Hamlet, but I thought you'd enjoy it."

"Of course, my dear,of course! Oh this is wonderful, but," he creased his brow "my Crowley won't want to come. He's not the biggest fan of the theater."

"Take someone else then!" Pauline suggested, "I'm free that evening."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea!" Aziraphale agreed "A Christmas Eve friend date!"

"Perfect! I have to get going, but we'll do dinner, then go to the theater."

"Oh yes, dinner, I love it. I'm so excited now! It's really been ages since I saw any Shakespeare."

"So I'll come by about...six? To pick you up? We can take my car." Pauline said, picking up her bag to go.

"That sounds fine to me! I'll expect you st 6." 

"See you Christmas Eve," Pauline called as she exited the shop. 

It's all coming together, she thought to herself. 

Crowley was trying to find a gift as well, but his luck was turning out lousy. What do you get for the angel that has everything? He'd racked his brains and couldn't think of a single thing near good enough for his angel. All the shops and stores, newspaper adverts and television commercials all claimed to have what your loved ones want. But did they really? He doubted it. On top of that, he'd never in the history of the world bought a Christmas present. Before, if Hell had gotten even a whiff of a clue that he'd participated in Christmas, it would have been straight into a holy water bath for him.

Well, at the very least a stern talking to and a few years hellish punishment. 

"Well, what does he like?" Allie asked, not looking up from her beer. He had met her at the bar to see her show, but half her band was down with the flu so it was canceled 

"Lots of things," Crowley sat exasperated "books, for one, but he's got plenty of those. Theater, but he got tickets to a play from someone else." He still hadn't met Pauline officially, but he'd heard her talking to Aziraphale in the shop on occasion and Aziraphale had pointed her out when passing the cafe. Something about her seemed TERRIBLY familiar but he just couldn't put his finger on it.

Allie looked over at him, "Cook him a meal."

Crowley smacked his forehead so hard his glasses almost fell off "Oh hell, I can't believe I didn't think of that!"

"Two heads are better than one, skinny bones." She elbowed him gently. "Go get the ingredients while he's out and make it for him Christmas day."

"You're a goddamn genius!" Crowley downed his bourbon and put on his coat.

"Leaving already?"

"There's only three days til Christmas, I have to start looking for a recipe!" He left cash for the drink on the table and got a wiggle on back to the shop.

Allie just smiled and waved goodbye.

When Christmas Eve came, Crowley thought Aziraphale was going to explode from excitement. He made a mental note to get theater tickets next time he saw a chance. At a quarter to six Aziraphale was all ready for his night out and kissed Crowley goodbye. "Don't get into too much trouble while I'm gone."

"Oh I'll try, Angel. But you know me," and tipped him a wink.

Aziraphale chuckled and left, locking the shop door behind him. When Crowley was sure he was gone he put on his glasses and coat and headed out to the supermarket in the Bentley, cookbook in hand. 

It took a hell of a long time to get all the ingredients, mostly because he didn't know how to shop for food. Clothes, cars, or plants were easy. Food though? He had no idea what he was looking for. Crowley wasn't really a food person. He had to get help from a very exasperated store employee who only wanted to go home for Christmas, and even had a bakery clerk write on a cake for him. Merry Christmas Aziraphale.

The angel was going to be overjoyed.

Once home he entered the kitchen to put away the groceries, and saw a large, colourfully wrapped gift on the counter. He put everything away and then examined the gift. To Crowley: open when you find me said the tag. His heart leapt!

He unwrapped the gift, taking care not to tear the paper too much, and opened the box. He was dumbfounded as he pulled out the records one by one. Aziraphale had done all this for him? He was always so amazed that the angel cared for him so much. It only took 6000 years! Ah, Mother Ship. He tipped the Zeppelin record out of the sleeve and a piece of folded paper fell out onto the floor.

He picked it up and read it:

'Crowley,  
I have your angel. If you ever want to see him alive again, meet me in Hecate's grove at midnight. 

You will pay for what you did to my ancestors.

A.P.'

What? WHAT?! No. Oh no. He called Aziraphale's phone. No answer. He called again. Still no answer. 

Crowley grabbed the keys and jumped into the car, speeding north east. He didn't know where he was going but he'd get there.

…………………………………................................................

Coyote is the most cunning of all the animals, second only to fox, and he knows it. But not even the wiliest of all the animal people is immune to death. 

Coyote was sad because people died and went away to the land of the spirits. All around him was the sound of mourning. He wondered and wondered how he could bring the dead back to the land of the living. 

Coyote's sister had died, killed by the great Cougar. Eagle's wife had died as well, and Eagle was mourning for her. To comfort him Coyote said, "The dead shall not remain forever in the land of the dead. They are like the leaves that fall, brown and dead, in the autumn. They shall come back again. When the grass grows and the birds sing, when the leaf buds open and the flowers bloom, the dead shall come back again." 

But Eagle did not want to wait until spring. He thought that the dead should be brought back without any delay. So Coyote and Eagle started out together to the land of the dead, Eagle flying along over Coyote's head. After several days they came to a big body of water, on the other side of which were a great many houses. 

"Bring a boat and take us across the water!" shouted Coyote. 

But there was no answer -- no sound and no movement. "There is no one there," said Eagle. "We have come all the way for nothing." 

"They are asleep," explained Coyote. "The dead sleep during the day and come out at night. We will wait here until dark." 

After sunset. Coyote began to sing. In a short time, four spirit men came out of the houses, got into a boat, and started toward Coyote and Eagle. Coyote kept on singing, and soon the spirits joined him, keeping time with their paddles. But the boat moved without them. It skimmed over the water by itself. 

When the spirits reached the shore, Eagle and Coyote stepped into the boat and started back with them. As they drew near the island of the dead, the sound of drums and of dancing met them across the water. 

"Do not go into the house," warned the spirits as they were landing. "Do not look at the things around you. Keep your eyes closed, for this is a sacred place." 

"But we are hungry and cold. Do let us go in," begged Eagle and Coyote. 

So they were allowed to go into a large lodge made of tule mats, where the spirits were dancing and singing to the beating of the drums. An old woman brought to them some seal oil in a basket bottle. Dipping a feather into it, she fed them from the oil until their hunger was gone. 

Then Eagle and Coyote looked around. Inside the lodge everything was beautiful, and there were many spirits. They were dressed in ceremonial robes, beautifully decorated with shells and with elks' teeth. Their faces were painted, and they wore feathers in their hair. The moon, hanging from above, filled the big lodge with light. Near the moon stood Frog, who has watched over it ever since he jumped into it long ago. He saw to it that the moon shone brightly on the crowd of dancers and singers. 

Eagle and Coyote knew some of the spirits as their former friends, but no one paid any attention to the two strangers. No one saw the basket which Coyote had brought with him. In this basket he planned to carry the spirits back to the land of the living. 

Early in the morning, the spirits left the lodge for their day of sleep. Then Coyote killed Frog, took his clothes, and put them on himself. At twilight the spirits returned and began again a night of singing and dancing. They did not know that Coyote, in Frog's clothing, stood beside the moon. 

When the dancing and singing were at their gayest, Coyote swallowed the moon. In the darkness. Eagle caught the spirit people, put them into Coyote's basket, and closed the lid tight. Then the two started back to the land of the living. Coyote carrying the basket. 

After traveling a great distance, they heard noises in the basket and stopped to listen. 

"The people are coming to life," said Coyote. 

After they had gone a little farther, they heard voices talking in the basket. The spirits were complaining. 

"We are being bumped and banged around," groaned some. 

"My leg is being hurt," groaned one spirit. 

"My legs and arms are cramped," groaned another. 

"Open the lid and let us out!" called several spirits together. 

Coyote was tired, for the basket was getting heavier and heavier. The spirits were turning back into people. 

"Let's let them out," said Coyote. 

"No, no," answered Eagle quickly. 

A little later, Coyote set the basket down. It was too heavy for him. 

"Let's let them out," repeated Coyote. "We are so far from the spirit land now that they won't return." 

So he opened the basket. The people took their spirit forms and, moving like the wind, went back to the island of the dead. 

Eagle scolded at first, but soon he remembered Coyote's earlier thought. "It is now autumn. The leaves are falling, just as people die. Let us wait until spring. When the buds open and the flowers bloom, let us return to the land of the dead and try again." 

"No " replied Coyote. "I am tired. Let the dead stay in the land of the dead forever and forever." 

So Coyote made the law that, after people have died, they shall never come to life again. If he had not opened the basket and let the spirits out, the dead would have come to life every spring as the grass and flowers and trees do.

………………………………..................................................

So he drove and told his phone to call Aziraphale every few minutes.

It had to be a mistake. Who's ancestors? Which ancestors? He'd been alive a very long fucking time and pissed off a lot of people. It could be anybody.

On he drove. Holy shit, he wished he had paid more attention on the first drive up here. Trees flew past the windows as the Bentley sped through the evergreen forest. He could see the glowing eyes of animals in the bushes when his headlights swept past.

Crowley could feel Aziraphale close, but something was clouding his perception.

Wrong turn, back track. 

Too far, back track. 

Another wrong turn. It was an hour to midnight and he had no idea where he was. He put his head on the steering wheel and tried to calm down. This was all his fault. Just like everything else. Everything was his fault. Why was he so STUPID. Where his head should have banged against the steering wheel, a hand stopped him. A hand?

He looked to the passenger seat. "Hecate," he breathed

She tapped his temple lightly with a finger. All at once he could see the road ahead, but at the same time a birds eye view of the thick forest. "Drive, speed demon." 

And he was off again. He knew exactly where he was going. When he couldn't drive any further he got out and ran. He tripped over roots and branches. He almost lost his boot in a muddy hole. He ran all the same. 

The forest gods and animal spirits whispered as he ran.

Hurry Crowley

You're almost there

Hurry

Save the angel

They're waiting for you

RUN, DEMON, RUN

Finally he reached the edge of the clearing he'd been taken to Halloween night. There was none of the inviting warmth here that there was all those months ago. Crowley saw Aziraphale only by the light of the moon, in the middle of the clearing bound and unconscious. Hell, his fucking wings were bound. Then he saw Allie, her Pauline wig and glasses still on. And he saw the obsidian knife. Crowley screamed with rage, throwing his glasses aside, and extended his own black wings.

"I don't know what the fuck you're playing at, Allie," he snarled "but let him go if it's me you want!"

Allie laughed "Make me, skinny bones!"

Crowley ran forward and hit a force field. She warded the circle against demons!

Allie laughed harder, "Oh man, the look on your face. You're not getting in here til I'm done, Crowley."

Crowley fell to his knees "What did I do to you? What did I do to your ancestors?"

"The village on the fjord, Crowley. I know you remember it. You've been having nightmares about it." She chuckled "That was a little gift from me.

"You brought the invaders. They came with their ships and weapons, and wouldn't take no for an answer. My ancestors tried to fight back, but a bunch of bronze age tribals were no match for a trained Roman legion. The child you tried to steal was the only person from that village to survive."

"But, the woman?" 

"That was our goddess, Irpa. She saved that child, though at the time she thought you were Loki playing tricks. A few choice words with that asshole made the truth clear.”

"My family are the last descendants of the people of that village. We've kept our goddess alive all this time, but she's very weak. She doesn't even have a physical form anymore. But I found if I kill other powerful beings in her name, the stronger she'll get. The more powerful, the better, so I started tracking down gods. Imagine my surprise when an angel and a demon just APPEAR on my radar one day, and what a beautiful stroke of luck that it was you, Crowley. The demon who started it all."

"Why the disguises? Why the fake names?"

"They weren't fake! You think I can work at a place like that bullshit cafe looking the way I do? I had to look 'professional'," she mimed finger quotes. "And even you go by different names when it suits you, Anthony," she continued "I had originally planned on killing you both, and I had to gain your trust, so I used my separate personas to my advantage. Then I found you that you were together! Oh god, that's so FUNNY! An angel and a demon so hopelessly in love, you don't see the danger you're in!"

Allie was no longer laughing, "One of you has more than enough power to bring Irpa back to full strength. So which will it be? Angel?" She pointed her knife at Aziraphale "or demon?" pointing at Crowley.

"Me!" Begged Crowley "just kill me! Spare the angel!"

Allie made an exaggerated pouty face "Awww that's so sweet," her smile was creeping back in "but you chose wrong!"

"NO!"

Allie raised the knife to the heavens and called "I pay this tribute to the goddess Irpa!"

"AZIRAPHALE!"

In slow motion Crowley watched the knife come down, plunging into Aziraphale. His eyes shot open in pain and stared right into Crowley's. Thunder and lightning ripped across the sky as the knife channeled Aziraphale's energy up and out, his eyes glowing bright blue. Allie's laughter came in spasms as the energy flowed through her. Crowley could only watch in horror on the other side of the barrier.

After what seemed like an eternity, the power stopped flowing, and Aziraphale's head slumped. The woman also fell over, smoking and sizzling. The power surge had fried her. When she hit the ground, the force field spell wore off and Crowley scrambled across the dirt to his angel. 

"No, no, no, Angel, wake up." He begged as he untied Aziraphale's restraints "please please. You can't be gone, oh God, please. Wake up, Angel." 

He held Aziraphale close to him and began to rock "please, Aziraphale. Please. I'll buy you lunch"

But Aziraphale was gone. As Crowley held him, his physical form began to break down and blow away, just dust in the wind. Crowley held on til Aziraphale had completely blown away. He stood up and walked over to Allie's corpse, staring for a moment. He kicked the dead body of the woman he thought was his friend, then turned back for the long walk to his car. 

He felt numb.

It took twice as long to get back into the city as he drove absentmindedly through the foothills and suburbs. Eventually the demon parked and went inside the book shop. Without turning on any lights, he climbed the stairs and went to bed. 

Crowley was awoken several hours later to a yellow gloved hand shaking him by the shoulder. Without moving he opened his eyes and looked up into the face of Mister Nancy. The god beaconed him to get up and come downstairs.

At the kitchen table sat Hecate and another woman he didn't recognize. 

"Well, merry Christmas," he mumbled sardonically. 

Hecate rose from the table and embraced Crowley, "I'm so sorry, Crowley."

"As am I." Mister Nancy said, subdued "It's a damn shame."

"Understatement of the millennia, mate," croaked the demon. "And who are you?" He addressed the other woman.

"Irpa," she began but Crowley cut her off

"Get out."

"Please just listen,"

"Get! Out!"

"Crowley, I'm sorry. I never asked Allie to bring me back. I never wanted this," she said as she approached him 

"Please," he whimpered "just go."

Irpa sighed and strode past him into the entryway, before leaving she turned just for a moment. "None of this is your fault, Crowley. Not my village, not my acolytes, and not the angel. I'm truly sorry you had to go through this," she said before leaving.

Crowley took her spot at the table and laid his head on it. "Coffee," he said.

Hecate and Mister Nancy looked at each other. "Coffee," repeated Mister Nancy. 

"And cake. It's in the fridge," his face, still on the table.

Hecate pulled the pink box out of the refrigerator and opened it with a small gasp. Mister Nancy came to see. "Well," he choked out "cake it is."

Together, the three immortals ate cake and coffee in memory of an angel on Christmas day.

"What are you going to do now?" Hecate asked.

"I'm staying here." Crowley mumbled "I haven't got anywhere else to go."

After more coffee, and a few brandies, Hecate and Mister Nancy left. Crowley locked the door and went upstairs with the records and player his angel had gotten him. He hooked it up, threw Led Zeppelin out the window, and climbed back into bed with his headphones. 

And there he stayed, a fallen angel grieving his love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coyote and Eagle native American legend borrowed from:
> 
> http://www.native-languages.org/wishramstory.htm


	4. The Pappy Heist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Mister Nancy go on a road trip to a famous distillery. Hilarity insues .

American Omens  
Part 4

The Pappy Heist

For a person who lived for 6000 years, a day passes like a blink of an eye. For a person in pain, a day can feel like 6000 years. Crowley didn't move from his bed until February, and then it was only to clean the rotting food from the fridge. He went back to bed and didn't move until May, when Mister Nancy came to check up on him and found their coffee cups still in the sink from Christmas. The old man made him take a proper shower and wash the dishes.

"Look, I know it's hard. But you gotta take care of yourself. He wouldn't want you living like this." 

He was right, of course, but what was the point?

After he left Crowley went back into hibernation. In August, he got up only to realize all his plants had died of neglect and the shop was covered in dust. He sighed to himself.

His heart ached.

He miracled the dust away and sorted the mail. He did another miracle to pay all the past due bills and called around and got all the bills on autopay. Eventually he would have to do something with the books, but now wasn't the time. 

He went back to bed until Christmas when he went out for the first time in a year and bought a cake. Mister Nancy and Hecate came by and shared it. On New Year's, Mister Nancy came back to the shop "My girlfriend kicked me out." he mumbled sheepishly "Can I stay here?"

Crowley smiled a little "Fine, old man. There's a pullout bed in one of these couches."

The old god was a surprisingly good roommate. He cleaned up after himself and kept the shop tidy. Now and then Crowley would be woken up by the smell of foods that brought back memories of Mesopotamia or the ancient African empires. He'd come sit with Mister Nancy and talk of days long ago when the world was young. Nancy was the greatest story teller. And having someone there to make him a hot drink and give him a pat on the back when he woke up screaming was a blessing in itself.

It was a few months into his stay with Crowley that Mister Nancy came into his room early one morning. "Get up." Mister Nancy jostled Crowley awake. He'd fallen asleep with his headphones on again. "We're leaving." 

"Wha- why?"

"We're going to Kentucky."

"Nngk. No thanks," and he rolled over.

Mister Nancy tore his blanket off "I said, get UP, Crowley. I'm going to Kentucky and your ass is coming with me. You can't stay in this shop for all eternity."

"I really could though. Who's to say? Certainly not you."

"You obstinate little-"

"Alright alright. I'm getting up." Crowley got up and stretched, all his joints popped as he did. He'd been in bed for about a week. He got dressed and got his glasses "So what's in Kentucky?"

"Pappy van Winkle," the old god explained as they descended the stairs. "It's a bourbon that has a sort of notoriety in the liquor world. It's incredibly sought after and fetches huge prices on the black market."

"Hmm. Is it good?"

"Oh hell no, but it'll be a great story."

Nancy grabbed his small overnight bag and headed outside to his car. Crowley raised an eyebrow at the 1980 Crown Victoria suspiciously "Will this thing get us all the way to Kentucky? That's a damn long way."

"It will if I say it will, now get in."

The demon shrugged and climbed into the passenger seat. Nancy put his bag in the trunk and got in as well, and away they went, leaving Seattle east on I-90. The first few hours were uneventful. They stopped to get drive-thru coffee but didn't talk much. The change in landscape was startling to Crowley. Western Washington was green and lush, with evergreen trees. Once you crossed over the Cascades, eastern Washington was hot and dry. This is because of the rain shadow effect. The clouds hit the mountains and have to drop all their rain to get over, creating Seattle's signature weather pattern. 

Aziraphale would have loved a trip like this. Crowley's heart sank and he sighed. He closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Through eastern Washington and Idaho they drove. It was early evening by the time they hit Montana and Nancy parked the car, waking the demon as he did. They were parked in front of what appeared to be a roadside attraction called the 50,000 Silver Dollar Inn. 

"Wow, this place is objectively interesting," Crowley mumbled groggily.

"Roadside attractions are one big thing that sets America apart from the rest of the world," Nancy told him as they got out of the car "Anywhere else in the world, in spots people feel power, there might be a temple or a shrine. But in the states they build things like this." 

"I can feel it," Crowley replied "It's like a church but without the bare-feet-on-the-beach feeling. What are we doing here?" 

"Eating," said Mister Nancy simply. 

They went inside and a waitress sat them at a booth. Nancy ordered a cheeseburger, Crowley just got a beer. He gazed around at the assortment of decor. There were indeed 50,000 silver dollars all the way up the walls to the high ceiling behind the bar. Half the building was a restaurant, the other was a gift shop, and there was as attached motel, as the name implied. 

The food came and Crowley sipped his beer while Mister Nancy ate.

Crowley finished his beer "You mind if I go look around?"

Nancy waved him off, "I'll meet you in the car, then." 

Crowley tossed some cash at him to cover the bill and sauntered away to the giftshop. He had an overwhelming urge to buy something, but he didn't know what. There were shirts, hats, pins, buttons, Native American art, books, beads, jewelry, and other trinkets and do-dads. Crowley sighed. 

"You need help-" a woman began to say, but stopped "Oh jeez. What's a demon doing here?" 

Crowley turned and saw a Native American woman standing behind a small cash register. She looked pleasant, her hair cut into a short bob. Her face looked young but her dark brown eyes spoke of ages, with deep crows feet and smile lines. Her energy told him she was a goddess, but a very weak one. There weren't too many people to worship her anymore. "Just looking around, don't worry your pretty little head." 

She exhaled the breath she'd been holding "Well don't scare me like that." 

"I should just announced that I'm a demon every time I enter a new establishment, shall I?" He asked sarcastically. "Just a demon sent from hell to buy knick-knacks! Be not afraid!"

She laughed, "Oh, don't be like that! I'm Ko'komiki'somma, moon goddess."

"Say that again?"

"koh-koh-mih-kih-sum" she said again slowly.

"koh-koh-mih-kih-sum?"

"Your accent gets in the way, but you get the idea." She was so cheerful it almost unnerved him "now, do you need help finding something?"

"Oh I don't know." Crowley rubbed the back of his neck and approached the counter, "I feel like I should buy something, but I don't know what."

Ko'komiki'somma looked at him searchingly "Maybe it's just you have the look of a guy who's lost something."

Crowley didn't respond, instead choosing to fiddle with the rings on the counter.

"Get a postcard," she told him.

"But-" he began but she cut him off.

"It doesn't matter. Buy a postcard and write a message to the person you're thinking of like you're going to send it," She gestured to a rack of cards "Do it every time you stop. Whenever you feel lost, take out your postcards and read the messages."

"Godly wisdom?"

"No, my therapist told me to do that," she winked.

Crowley shrugged "Yeah, I guess I can try it," and grabbed a postcard off the revolving display. It had a picture of the bar, with all the silver dollars and read 50,000 Silver Dollar Inn, Montana. He paid, waved goodbye to the goddess, and went back to the car. 

In the glove compartment he found a pen. He stared at the back of the postcard. What do you even write on a postcard? Especially to someone who…..wasn't around. He thought for a few minutes, but the pain threatened to overwhelm him again. He scribbled a note with a shaking hand.

'Angel,  
On a road trip with Mister Nancy. This place is weird but cool. I miss you.  
Crowley'

He tucked the pen and postcard back into the glove compartment. He closed his eyes tightly and took some deep breaths. Shut it down, block it out, hold it in he told himself. A few more deep breaths and he'd regained his composure. How long would he feel like this? It had been a year and a half since it happened, but that didn't mean anything in the grand scheme of things, he supposed. 

Suddenly the driver's side door opened, startling him back to the present. "Sleeping again, you lazy demon?" asked Mister Nancy.

"No, just resting my eyes."

"Yeah, sure. You buy anything?"

"Got a postcard."

"Good, good. It's always important to buy souvenirs when you stop at these places. It's like taking a piece with you."

Crowley didn't respond. He didn't feel like talking, not that he ever really did these days. Mister Nancy didn't seem to mind. It meant he could talk as much as he wanted. They got back on the road heading east and drove for the rest of the day and into the night. When they stopped again it was for gas in Billings.

"You know, I could just do a miracle and fill up the tank."

"No you won't! My baby only runs on premium gasoline, your hell juice will muck it up," the old god said, aghast.

Crowley followed him in so he could get a cup of coffee. Nancy paid for the gas with a credit card and went out to pump. Crowley went to the counter to pay for the coffee. There were no postcards. He shrugged it off.

They were off again, driving through Montana and into South Dakota. Crowley was getting antsy. He reached over and turned on the radio, scanning the channels until he found a classic rock station, then settled back in. Mister Nancy reached over and turned it off. Annoyed, Crowley turned it back on with a snap of his fingers. Nancy huffed, but he left it on this time. They listened to the radio for several hours, but when Led Zeppelin came on Crowley snapped it off.

"Not a Zeppelin fan?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Mister Nancy sighed "Boy, you never wanna talk about it, but you have to eventually. I know I'm not nearly as old as you are I've been through losses too. Lovers, children, friends. I've outlived so many people I can't even count them anymore."

Crowley leaned back in his seat "Sorry, Nancy," he said sincerely, but that's all he'd say. There was a time and a place for the whole story, but that time wasn't now. 

When they stopped at the next gas station so Mister Nancy could get a bite. It had been almost 8 hours since their last stop and Crowley desperately needed to stretch his legs so he got out as well. This gas station did have postcards. He bought one with a picture of Mount Rushmore and went back to the car. With the glove compartment pen he scribbled another hasty note

'Angel,  
Not actually at Mt. Rushmore but we are in South Dakota. It's nice here.  
Crowley'

This time it was easier.

Crowley offered to take over driving this second half of the trip. On and on they drove, stopping at gas stations, without much incident. Crowley collected postcards all along the way. Once in Frankfurt it didn't take them long to find the distillery. Nancy had him park as close to the front door as was possible.

"So, where do we get this bourbon?"

"Oh, we have to go to the distillery and get it."

"Straight from the distillery? Very bougie."

"Here, put this on," Mister Nancy handed him a name tag proclaiming him to be Jonathan Jorts, of the Liquor and Gambling board. He put on his own. His new name was Shyamalan Nightvale.

"Er, what?" He asked, eyebrows raised in amusement.

"I told you! It's very limited!" Nancy explained "We just have to get in, tell them we're there to inspect a shipment, snatch a bottle, and you miracle us out! Easy as pie!"

"Pie takes all day to make, Nancy," Crowley laughed, "I'm not saying we're not gonna do it, because we absolutely are, but we need better disguises." And with a snap of his fingers their clothes changed to suits much more fitting of government employees.

Mister Nancy clapped him on the back "Now that's more like it!"

They went in the front door and found themselves at a ticket counter. Crowley showed the bored woman at the desk his ID and putting on his best American accent told her "I'm Jonathan Jorts of the Liquor and Gambling board, and this is my partner Shyamalan Nightvale. We've been instructed to inspect a shipment you have going out today."

The woman looked puzzled "I wasn't told about this."

"Surprise inspection. Totally routine."

"Well, alright," she seemed to be a little skeptical "I'll buzz you through and have someone meet you on down in shipping ."

Crowley and Nancy pushed through the turnstile and walked casually inside. "So far so good," Crowley whispered. There was a gift shop near the entrance, Crowley noticed, that looked like it had everything bourbon related you could want, except for the bourbon itself. Using simple intuition and a little demon magic they found their way to the small shipping area. A very sweaty looking middle aged man waiting for them. He was heavyset with a mustache that looked like it did civil war reenactments on the weekend.

"Gentlemen," he shook their hands "Thomas Vanderbilt. I'm told you're here for some kind of surprise inspection?"

"That is correct," Crowley said, giving him his introduction spiel again. 

"Well this is highly irregular, but it looks like your credentials are in order."

The man lead them to a stack of wooden crates and instructed a worker to pry one open. Inside were two dozen brand new bottles of Pappy Van Winkle. Crowley and Mister Nancy knelt down to take a closer look. Nancy slid a bottle out and held it up to the light. "Yup," he said "that's bourbon," then quickly tucked it under his arm and shouted, "Crowley, now!"

Thomas Vanderbilt barely had time to say "What are you-" before Crowley snapped his fingers and they vanished. Crowley had done this thousands of times but never with a god in tow, so his trajectory was off. Instead of landing outside, they landed in the gift shop. After getting their bearings he shouted "RUN!"

They shot through the giftshop, across the lobby, over the turnstile, and out the front door before anyone was the wiser. Crowley started the car with a snap of his fingers and they sped out of the parking lot, leaving a puff of smoke in their midst.

Once on the main road, they slowed down and drove more casually. Mister Nancy began to chuckle, followed by Crowley, then Mister Nancy dissolved into full on belly laughter. Soon they had to pull the car over because both were laughing so hard they were in tears.

"Did you see that guy's FACE?!" Crowley coughed through fits of laughter. 

"He was like, what the fuck?!" Mister Nancy corroborated.

Crowley wiped his eyes and without thinking said "Aziraphale would be FURIOUS if he-" but cut himself off.

Nancy stopped laughing then too and waited expectantly.

"It's just." He began, swallowing the lump in his throat. "He probably wouldn't talk to me for weeks if it were the old days." 

"He didn't approve of drinking?"

"Oh no, he could drink me under the table every day of the week. It's the lying and stealing." Crowley chuckled again "10 commandments and all."

"He sounds like a keeper."

"You have no idea."

Mister Nancy dug into his coat pocket and pulled out a postcard "I stole it from the giftshop on the way out. I knew you'd want one."

Crowley took it and nodded.

"Now let's get back on the road and go home," Mister Nancy instructed, "and if you're feeling up to it you can tell me all about your angel."

When they pulled up in front of the book shop two days later, they were both exhausted. Crowley took all his postcards out of the glove compartment, Mister Nancy took the Pappy. Before heading up to his room Crowley turned to the old god.

"Thank you," he said "for this trip. I think I needed it."

"I know, boy, but don't get all mushy on me I can't handle it right now."

Crowley laughed "Yeah, same here. Good night, old man."

"Good night, demon."

In his room he took the Pappy postcard and wrote one last note.

'Angel,  
I stole a bottle of bourbon from this place. Haha  
Crowley'


	5. Phoenix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irpa tells her story.

American Omens  
Part 5

Phoenix

Crowley finally made up his mind. Mister Nancy was sorting through a stack of old foodie magazines when Crowley approached him "I need to see Irpa."

Nancy looked up at him with his watery mahogany eyes, "Are you sure you wanna do that? You might learn some heavy stuff, man."

"I'm sure," he replied, resolute.

Nancy nodded "I'll pull some strings."

A few days later Crowley was in his room listening to records when he heard the shop door jingle open and voices from downstairs. Mister Nancy called to him so he headed downstairs, leaving his glasses behind. 

Irpa wasn't looking quite as vibrant as he remembered. Without anyone to worship her the energy she'd been given was depleting. Her blond hair didn't shine as it did on Christmas, and her blue eyes lacked the luster they once had. She looked as though she were carrying a terrible weight. She smiled at him but the smile didn't reach her eyes. 

He didn't offer to shake her hand, instead offering a drink. 

"I would definitely take a drink," she sighed. 

Once the drinks were poured and they were all settled at the kitchen table, Crowley fixed the goddess with his intense snakelike gaze "I called you here so you can explain to me why things had to happen this way. I need to understand."

Irpa took a deep breath and began to tell her story.

It was in the time before the vikings. Irpa didn't know how she became the patron deity of the village, but she wasn't complaining. They paid her tribute and in return she blessed their crops, kept them reasonably healthy, and made sure their babies were born good and strong. She loved the people and treated them all as if they were her children. 

Many generations after she came to the village on the fjord, the men from the south arrived. They wore shiny armor and spoke strangely. They had a man with them Irpa didn't like at all. She didn't understand his power and didn't understand his yellow eyes. The strangers didn't seem to notice he was different, allowing him to slither among them like anyone else. 

Despite this the strangers were friendly. They brought weapons and tools and exotic spices as a gift to the jarl, and convinced him to allow them to use the village as a trade hub. After a few weeks exploring the area and getting to know the people the strangers left, taking the yellow eyes man with them, with the promise that they'd be back with more people and gifts. 

Much time had past before they returned. This time they brought so many new things for the village! Crops they'd never seen, spirits they'd never drank, more tools, more weapons, and so many men they couldn't all stay in the village. A few stayed, including the yellow-eyed man.

There was a great feast to celebrate the new partnership, with music and dancing in the great mead hall. The strangers showed the villagers some of their music and shared their wine. Meanwhile, Irpa kept an eye on the yellow-eyed man. Although he was incredibly powerful, he really only used his powers for tomfoolery. He'd tie a drunk man's boots together and laugh as he tripped, or steal a cup of mead when no one was looking. 

Loki! Irpa thought, but she didn't reveal her suspicions. She was so focused on the man she didn't notice one of the visitors try to take liberties with a village girl, but the girls brother did. In defending his sister he started a scuffle with the visitor. It was broken up quickly and the jarl decided it was time to call it a night. Everyone was quite drunk.

The brother, though, was also still quite angry. When everyone was asleep he snuck into the visitor's camp with a knife, intent on killing the man who had touched his sister. In his drunken state he was much too clumsy for a stealth mission and alerted the camp almost immediately. 

Another fight broke out. More villagers joined and it became a brawl, then more visitors joined, and it only kept escalating. Irpa tried to defend the village, but it was no use. The visitors were stronger and more drunk. Someone lit a hut on fire and the flames quickly spread to surrounding dwellings. 

Irpa had to think quickly. She had to save her people! Just then, she saw Loki running out of town with one of her children. This trickster wasn't getting away that easily. Conjuring a bow and a quiver of arrows she loosed one into the yellow-eyed man. 

"You won't be taking this child, Loki," she told him. Loki tried to deny it, but died before he could explain. His body hit the ground and turned to dust, blowing away in the wind off the fjord. Irpa took the girl to safety, but by the time she returned, her people were slaughtered. Not a single person had survived the onslaught. 

If she'd paid a little more attention, been a little more vigilant, if Loki hadn't distracted her, none of this would have happened. She returned to where she'd stashed the little girl, whose name was Verlee. From that point on that girl became her purpose, and she raised her as her own.

They traveled east, away from the sea, and settled in a village where she could live in anonymity. Verlee grew up strong and beautiful, and Irpa used her influence to make sure she married well, having many children. 

Over the generations the family still paid tribute to their goddess and Irpa stayed strong but when Christianity infected Scandinavia, many of Verlee's descendants converted and there were fewer and fewer people to worship the Norse goddess. Irpa's power started depleting and so her power over the descendants lessened, and their luck took a turn for the worse.

After several generations living on the margins, they decided to move to America, the land of prosperity and opportunity. Irpa pulled all the strings she could to get her children to America safely, but this came at a terrible price. She had to make some very shady deals, and in the process she lost most of her power and her physical form. Her children, once virile, strong people, became sickly and barren. Some still told stories of their goddess and their former glory and that was the only reason Irpa didn't disappear completely

But they got by, and soon there was a new generation. One girl in this generation rejected the religion the family had practiced for hundreds of years and became a witch. Through her studies she found Irpa and began paying tribute, REAL tribute, to her goddess again. Irpa loved her little acolyte, and when her sister became pregnant, the girl and the goddess did everything they could to make sure the pregnancy was easy and the baby would be healthy.

But even divine intervention is no match for pure human error. The girl's sister and her child were killed in a terrible accident. The girl was devastated. Her studies became darker, her mind became clouded with anger, and her alienation from her family deepened. 

Irpa, having very little sway and still without a physical form, could only stand by and watch as her acolyte spiraled deeper into mental instability. Eventually the girl discovered that there were gods that walked along her people, and she discovered you can kill them. This strengthened Irpa and she tried to convince the girl to stop, but her love for the goddess had turned to an obsession and her sole goal became revenge. 

The girl hatched a plan to track down the trickster that she felt started her family down their path of destruction and discovered it wasn't Loki at all, but a demon. When the demon immigrated to America it was pure dumb luck he'd taken up residence in the same city she lived, but she took it as a sign from her goddess she was on the right path. 

And when she found out the demon had a lover, an angel, it was only a matter of time before her revenge was realized. She would make the demon watch his love die, like Irpa had to see her villagers die, and make him pay for every bad thing that had happened to her family. The angel's essence was more than powerful enough to bring her goddess back to full strength. 

Her plan went down with only one hitch. She hadn't counted on the release of heavenly power destroying her. Irpa was restored to her most powerful, and the girls revenge had been taken. 

Now there was no one to worship the goddess, leaving her with a cursed half-life 

Irpa finished her story and the three of them sat in silence. Eventually Mister Nancy showed her out and joined Crowley back in the kitchen. He still hadn't said a word. 

Without warning, he exploded and with a swipe, he flipped the little table over sending all the drink glasses shattering to the floor, "That's it?!" he shouted. "Aziraphale had to die FOR THAT??!" He picked up a chair and threw it against the wall, splintering it to pieces "Some crazy broad decides I'm the root of all her problems and ruins my life!!?!!" 

Mister Nancy didn't expect this outburst from the usually-calm demon. He backed himself into a corner and tried to soothe Crowley, who continued to break furniture, "Hey, just take it easy! None of this was your fault!"

Crowley threw another chair. "Then whose fault is it?!" he screamed in anguish.

"No one's! Sometimes things don't happen for a reason, Crowley!"

"There's always a reason! You never met Her. Every single thing is part of Her Fucking Plan," he screamed toward the heavens "You already punished me once, you old bag!"

He sat down on the floor amidst the rubble, panting, and Nancy sat down with him "No, I never did meet Her, but as a god myself I can tell you, sometimes things don't go according to plan. Sometimes you steal Tiger's balls, sometimes Tiger rips off all your legs."

Crowley, still shaking with anger, laughed a little at this "You never told me Tiger ripped off your legs." He sounded very tired.

"Oh yeah, man. I had to roll around like a sausage until my next molt for them to grow back." Nancy stood up "Fix all the furniture so we can sit down and I'll tell you about it."

After that, slowly, things began to get better. The ache of his loss never went away, that's not how grief works, but it became more bearable. He could be awake for longer stretches without the feelings overwhelming him. With Mister Nancy's help they brought some of his plants back. They also worked together and organized the shop the way a book shop ought to be organized and even had a special locked cabinet they filled with all Aziraphale's favourites. The demon was finally coming out of the darkness that had engulfed him for so long.

Crowley also met many gods, old and new, during this time. The shop can become a sort of safe haven for them. They would come to the shop to see Nancy, mainly to catch up or get advice. Now and then they might stay for a few days. Nancy would always get the demon out of bed to meet them. They were always amazed by him. Very few gods had had a chance to meet a real demon, except under very bad circumstances, let alone one as old or traveled as Crowley. 

And there were so damn many of them! Most of them were very weak, practically mortal. A few, like the muses, were comparatively strong. The Pacific Northwest's long, dark, wet winters so far from the equator made it prime real estate for the muses. Being stuck indoors for months at a time made people perfect conduits for their influence, creating so much art and music and literature during these seasonal exiles, it's a wonder Crowley never noticed. Crowley loved talking to muses. Finding out which famous musicians and artists were influenced by them. 

"What about Tom Waits?" Crowley asked one day.

The muse only scoffed "No, that guy is just crazy."

Almost all the gods told him the same thing. "America is not a good place for gods." they'd say,"You're lucky your power doesn't come from worship." And Crowley knew they were right.

It was on a fall day nearly four years after that fateful night that everything changed. Mister Nancy was entertaining a clutch of gods, including Hecate, and Crowley had joined in their festivities. He was upstairs gathering his records and player to share with the guests and Mister Nancy was telling an uproariously good story when the shop door jingled open. 

Everything downstairs went silent. Crowley's hackles were immediately raised. There was a shriek from one of the goddesses, a splash, and a sputtering cough.

Crowley ran downstairs to the entry to find all the gods standing in shocked disbelief, facing the doorway.

Aziraphale was standing there, dripping wet.

"I hit him with the holy water, but he didn't go away!" shouted a young god.

"That's because I'm not a demon, you stupid little boy," Aziraphale miracled the water away. "What the HELL is going on here?"

Crowley staggered forward and fell to his knees "Angel?" his voice broke "Am I dreaming? Quick, Nancy, smack me as hard as you can!"

The angel stepped in and knelt down with the demon. Crowley could smell that is really was him, he'd know that smell anywhere. Aziraphale removed Crowley's glasses and tilted his face up to look into his yellow eyes. The angel's unnaturally blue eyes were brimming with the love of eons as he gazed upon the shaking demon "I assure you, my dear. It really is me."

Crowley fell forward and buried his face in Aziraphale as all the tears from the last four years broke loose in great racking sobs like a tsunami. Aziraphale held him, sobbing himself as he did. One by one, all the gods in the room got down on the floor to embrace the two of them and the room filled with immense cosmic love.

When the storm had past, Crowley sat up, hiccuping "But how-," He sniffed "Why would- Why did they send you back? Oh God, Angel, I thought I'd lost you," and kissed him deeply

Aziraphale wiped the tears from Crowley's cheeks as he returned this kiss "I honestly don't know, sweetheart," sniffling after pulling away "When that woman discorporated me, the angels locked me up until they could decide what to do with me. For four years I sat in a cell. No food! Not even a book! And it was eventually decided they'd try the hellfire on me again."

"It was supposed to be today, but when Gabriel came to get me this morning he took off my shackles and said I was free to go. God had sent down a message from on high demanding my release and return to earth." 

"God did that?" Crowley croaked

"Yes!" Aziraphale smiled "And you should have seen the look on that bastard Gabriel's face! So I got a body and came straight back!" Suddenly the angel was aware that everyone was watching him, "Who are all these people?"

"These are my friends," Crowley explained gently as they helped each other up off the floor "Everyone," he announced, "This is my angel!"

There was a chorus of cheering as all the gods rushed forward to introduce themselves to the angel they'd heard so much about.

"Drinks! This calls for drinks!" Shouted Mister Nancy!

"Drinks," all the gods repeated.

As Nancy went to the kitchen with a few gods in tow to help, Crowley went upstairs and retrieved his record player. When he came back down Aziraphale beamed at him "You kept it!" 

"Of course I kept it, Angel," he told him as he hooked it up and putting on Queens Greatest Hits. "It was the only thing that kept me alive for the first year." 

"Oh Crowley," the angel said softly.

Crowley took his hand "Mister Nancy has been with me now for a couple of years," and dropping his voice low continued "He said his girlfriend kicked him out so he could come take care of me," he laughed.

Aziraphale put his hand on Crowley's cheek "You've changed so much."

"I suppose I have." The demon smiled "But I don't think that's a bad thing."

When everyone had a drink in hand Mister Nancy got their attention. "Gods and Goddesses, Angels and Demons! I shacked up with this snakey son of a bitch because I thought his sorry ass could use some company- but it's been so much more than that. This guy," he shook his head, "This fucking guy has more love in his heart then most of us will ever know. He doesn't like to admit it, edgy little fucker he is, but he does, and I for one am proud to call a demon my friend. I propose a toast," the old man raised his glass.

"To Crowley and Aziraphale!"

"And to friends and family who know us well, but love us just the same."

There was a cheer, a clinking of glasses, and everyone drank to the angel and the demon, reunited at last. The music was put back on and all the immortals danced through the night and into the morning. Many of the gods had never met an angel and we're eager to talk you Aziraphale, and after such a long time alone Aziraphale welcomed it.

Slowly gods started saying goodbye and filing out to front door, until only Crowley, Aziraphale, and Mister Nancy were left. 

"Well, I better get out of here," Nancy told them

"Ah, you don't have to go yet!" Crowley told him.

He laughed "I only moved here to pull you up by your bootstraps. My work here is done! And I think you too love birds have many things to talk about."

"Thank you for everything, Nancy." Crowley hugged the old man "You can sleep on my couch anytime you like."

"I got my own couch, thank you very much!" he said turning to leave "You two be good, now," and he left the shop. 

Crowley and Aziraphale locked up and turned the lights out, and climbed the stairs to bedroom hand in hand. Together they crawled into Crowley's big bed and curled up around each other. It had been so long since either of them shared a bed.

"I still can't believe you're really here," Crowley whispered into Aziraphale's neck, kissing it softy

Aziraphale sighed contentedly "I'm having a hard time believing it myself." He held the demon tightly "I was so worried about you. I was sure you'd go and do something rash."

"Oh, I definitely thought about it. But for a long time I barely had the will to get out of bed. I just stayed here with the records and slept." He laughed then "I slept for almost a full year!"

Aziraphale stroked his face, tears pricking his eyes "I'm so sorry, my darling. I was so stupid."

Crowley wiped the tears away "now don't start that. None if this is your fault. That woman tricked us both."

"What happened to her?"

"Oh she's dead. Your power fried her to a crisp."

Aziraphale shuddered "what a terrible way to go, poor misguided thing."

They stayed in bed like that sleeping off and on, getting to know each other's bodies again. They ordered pizzas when Aziraphale got hungry. (He had sorely missed eating.) Crowley told him all about his adventures with the gods, and showed Aziraphale his postcards. He retold stories from Mister Nancy, and they listened to records. 

Together the angel and the demon healed and grew, loved and lived. 

And together they stayed, in their bookshop on the corner of forever.


End file.
